Adam stepped from the portal into a dim, theater-like hall. Students sat scattered across the rows, all eyes on a masked instructor at the front. Behind him, a giant screen displayed a map.

  Dratol. Cemil. Wrathriver Necropolis. Wazar Region.

  Adam mouthed the names, recognizing the rough outline of Outworld.

  A few heads turned his way, but he ignored them. Even the instructor gave no sign that Adam had arrived. He slid into an empty seat and fixed his attention on the map.

  A portal hummed and another student stepped in. The lights dimmed; the map dissolved. A single image filled the screen: an immense monolith rising into the sky, its walls flashing like emeralds. Below it, two words: Varidan Towers.

  “Welcome, students.” The instructor straightened. “My name is Thomas Lowell.” His voice swept the hall. “For some of you, this will be the first—and last—time we share the same space. You’re here because your combat instructors deemed you worthy of missions. Congratulations.”

  Adam watched the masked man. Only now did he notice the hunchback beneath the robes. Around the room, faces registered everything from smugness to brittle confidence.

  “Unlike most academies,” Thomas continued, low and precise, “Varidan places little weight on academic scores. If I had to guess, ten percent of your evaluation comes from study.”

  “Sir, isn’t that too little? What makes up the other ninety percent?” a student in an oversized fedora interrupted.

  Thomas hummed thoughtfully, "hmm", before his gaze pinned her. “Student 127. Matilda Kurtz, correct? Don’t interrupt. You’ll have your turn.” His tone stayed calm, but it carried like a blade across the room.

  Adam’s brows lifted. The instructor hadn’t checked a file, yet he’d named the student and the number.

  Does he know everyone? The thought felt absurd; there were thousands of Year One students.

  “Memorizing a thousand profiles isn’t difficult for me,” Thomas said, as if plucking the thought from the air. “Varidan won’t leak your information.”

  Relief rippled through the hall.

  Okay, I was overthinking it, Adam decided.

  “Without further interruptions,” Thomas said, pointing at the screen, “burn this image into memory. This place controls your fate for the next three years. This—Varidan Towers—was once a Grand Dungeon, conquered by Priestess Emria. It’s our administrative heart.”

  Gasps spread across the audience. Adam stared at the picture; turning a Grand Dungeon into an academy’s headquarters was a statement of power and history.

  “If you wish to reach Year Two, you must win the approval of Varidan’s Elders,” Thomas said, sweeping his gaze across them. “And the only way to do that is to complete your assigned missions.”

  A hand rose.

  “What is it?” Thomas asked.

  “Sir, what kind of missions?” the young man demanded.

  “Good question,” Thomas replied. “For E- and D-ranked Awakened: slay at least five Familiars.”

  Silence fell like a curtain.

  “And to graduate?” the student pressed.

  Thomas didn’t blink. “Thirty Familiars for your rank.”

  Faces drained of color. Mouths opened and closed without sound. A few students shifted in their seats, the math of it settling like a stone.

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  “It’s not too late,” Thomas said, almost kindly. “You can leave. You don’t have to sacrifice your life for Varidan.” He folded his hands. “Now, raise your hand if you wish to withdraw voluntarily.”

  No hands rose.

  “Last chance. Raise your hand if you’ll withdraw. Think carefully: if you stay, you cannot refuse any mission.”

  For a long beat, silence held. Then one hand went up—Matilda Kurtz’s.

  “Anyone else?” Thomas probed; only her hand remained raised.

  “Matilda Kurtz, proceed to Registration to complete your withdrawal. You will be banned from Varidan Academy for two years. Don’t be ashamed, most won’t see the end of the year. Train harder. Good luck.”

  A portal opened beneath her feet and took her away. Thomas clicked his fingers, and the image of Varidan Towers fell from the screen.

  “Now, look at the map.” He pointed, and the hall leaned forward.

  Adam sat upright, eyes fixed on the map. Animated winds swept across arid lands; to the east, lush forests and winding rivers glimmered in motion, while snow-capped peaks crowned the north. His gaze lingered on the obsidian wall cutting through the continent from south to north, as if dividing the world itself.

  Beyond the wall, crimson script bled across the parchment: Beyond the Walls.

  Each of the four zones shared two recurring marks, golden stars and black crucifixes, clustered unevenly across the map.

  “This is a map of Outworld,” Thomas declared. “Two things matter here. First, the black and gold symbols mark the locations of Lesser and Grand Dungeons. Remember them well.” His tone hardened. “Never enter a Grand Dungeon. Not even death will show mercy if the demons find you there.”

  The hall fell silent.

  “Second,” Thomas went on, “unless authorized by Varidan Towers, you are forbidden to cross the walls. Don’t even think of exploring the dungeons beyond.” His voice grew sharp. “You were warned during orientation, but I’ll repeat it—have no dealings with The Eight Gates while enrolled. Whatever you do after graduation is your choice, but understand this: there will be consequences if you fraternize with Varidan’s enemies.”

  Adam frowned. The Eight Gates again. What the hell happened between them and Varidan?

  He remembered Dean Hensley’s tone—same venom, same weight. Some truths, he decided, were better left buried.

  “You’ll each receive a personalized, miniature map before your first assignments,” Thomas continued. “Guard it well. Losing it will result in punishment.” He stepped closer to the edge of the platform. “Within Varidan’s territory are countless subset dungeons, leading to Lesser Dungeons across the Eastern Nations. Remember, no one will protect you. The demons aren’t your only threat. Wearing Varidan’s crest makes you a target for guild mercenaries and rival academies alike. Questions?”

  Adam leaned back as dozens of hands shot into the air.

  Thomas pointed at a tanned young woman. She stood. “Sir, how are we supposed to survive if all Awakened enter the same dungeon—?”

  “What did you spend the last few weeks learning?” Thomas snapped. “Lesser Dungeons are ranked. The lowest are unranked, the highest are A-class. You’ll be assigned missions according to your level. Meeting someone stronger than the dungeon allows is… improbable. So stop worrying.”

  He gestured to another student. “You.”

  “Do we get to keep the loot, or must we hand it over like guild-bound Awakened?”

  Adam perked up, along with half the hall.

  “Varidan Towers has no interest in your spoils,” Thomas said flatly, and pointed elsewhere.

  Excited murmurs rippled through the room. Adam couldn’t help smiling. Generous. Still, Thomas had avoided mentioning the Grand Dungeons.

  He raised his hand.

  “You,” Thomas said, pointing toward Adam’s row—then to the person behind him.

  “Sir, please tell us what lies beyond the walls,” the student behind Adam asked. “We’ve all heard rumors, but no one knows what’s true.”

  Good question, Adam thought, lowering his hand.

  “I’m afraid your rank is too low for that knowledge,” Thomas said. “Knowing would serve you no purpose. Earn Varidan’s trust if you wish to learn more.” He leaned against the pulpit. “You can visit if you insist, but I’d advise against it. Perhaps your seniors will share what they saw—if they’re still alive.”

  He turned to another raised hand. “Yes?”

  “Are we allowed to join guilds while attending Varidan?”

  “Yes,” Thomas said without pause. “Though with your current strength, I doubt any reputable guild will bother recruiting you.”

  “One last question.” He pointed toward a young woman.

  “Sir, since there’s a finite number of dungeons—”

  “You’re mistaken.” His interruption was sharp. “Who told you the number was finite?” He gestured toward the screen. “Those markings show only active dungeons. Every day, new ones appear. Competition exists only for the high-ranked sites. As for Lesser Dungeons, there are more than enough to drown you all.”

  He straightened. “Your first missions will be assigned in two weeks. Prepare well. I sincerely wish you luck.”

  Portals blossomed across the hall. One by one, students vanished—until only Adam remained.

  He glanced down. The portal beneath his seat sat dormant. A frown creased his brow. “Sir, why—?”

  “Don’t speak or react,” Thomas’s voice echoed directly in his mind. “I’m using my Blessing to communicate. If I linger too long, they’ll notice.”

  Adam stiffened.

  “Have you located Erik Gilmore yet?” the voice continued. “If not, find him before your first mission. Take care of yourself, Adam.”

  Before Adam could respond, his portal flared to life and swallowed him whole.